


Rising by Degrees

by MrRhapsodist



Category: Original Work
Genre: Astrology, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Modern Era, Near Future, Office Sex, Polyamorous Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist
Summary: Gabe Sharp, fresh off mourning his father's passing, tries out for a new job at his girlfriend's urging. What he doesn't expect, though, is the cute guy at his new workplace. And magical things happen when they share a few drinks and words late at the office...
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	Rising by Degrees

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story almost a year ago. Wasn't sure about sharing it, but I reread it recently and thought it might be worthwhile. It's one of the few m/m romances I've ever done, too.

When he’d cast a horoscope for the trip ahead, Gabriel Sharp had known it’d go poorly. The way that Uranus rose up into Taurus sent shivers down his spine. During the long drive down Highway 101, his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down. Nor would his fingers stop drumming a faint rhythm against his steering wheel as he sat, caught in midday traffic, and waited for the people around to finally start  _ moving _ already.

More bad news when he switched on the radio. Gabe listened to a broadcast on NPR about the recent shootings in Echo Park. Gang-related killings, the police insisted, but no one local was willing to talk. Stock prices were down on the Dow Jones; ditto for NASDAQ. More refugees were coming out of the flood zones in Malibu, their beachfront properties sinking beneath the waves. All of this, naturally, was fodder for the upcoming 2034 midterm elections. By the time that the folks on public radio sat down with a Green Revolution candidate about fixing banks and unemployment, Gabe had had enough. He switched off the radio and took in the silence.

Earlier that day, after the horoscope casting, Gabe had sat down with his girlfriend Ivy. She’d come off a yoga workout and was toweling off her hair when he asked her about this new job.

“Babe.” Ivy’s grin had never failed to brighten his day. All straight white teeth that gleamed, even when she hadn’t brushed. Almost unfair, really. “You’re gonna knock it outta the park, okay? You even  _ think _ about calling it quits, you call me first, okay? Like, we’re gonna tiger team this over the phone if we have to.”

“So soon after Dad, though,” Gabe had insisted.

Ivy hadn’t responded. That was for the best, though. Gabe’s therapist Juliet had acknowledged that grief could arise in different ways. In his case, thinking about his career shifts made Gabe more likely to dwell on the forty-odd years his father had given to being a mail carrier. One of the best of the last. But only two days into his retirement, the old man went into sudden cardiac arrest on the front porch.

Gabe didn’t want to lose his dad. But he had. And now he’d lost his job at Sawyer and Sharp, his cousin’s own law firm, over one damn misfile. He wondered, as he stared at an eighteen-wheeler truck branded with the Walmart logo in the lane next to his, if he was doomed to be stuck in the same fate as his dad. Trapped in some form of drudge work after another, followed by a swift death the moment he was eligible to collect Social Security.

His horoscope hadn’t lied. This was classic misfortune. The chaos of Uranus rising through the eighth degree of Taurus.

* * *

“Mr. Sharp!” A low voice bounced off the smooth walls of the reception area as soon as the glass doors slid open. “Right this way, sir! Right this way!”

Gabe straightened his tie. He flashed an easy grin at the bearded man standing on the other side of the lobby. The gentleman didn’t look like a manager, but that was the nature of Tonalli Tech Labs. His clothes were practically the company uniform: blue flannel shirt, acid-washed jeans, loafers, black-rimmed glasses. He had a smile that matched Ivy’s grin: all straight and clean teeth, even though Gabe could smell the coffee on his breath as he approached.

“Hassan Madani.” Clasping Gabe by the hand, Hassan gave him a firm shake. “It’s gonna be a heck of a day, let me tell you. You up for some light work, or straight for the heavy stuff?”

“What’s the heavy stuff, exactly?”

“Running our sims through each round of tests. We got our quota to meet, ya dig?”

As he spoke, Hassan led the way inside. Their path meandered along a half-finished open-plan office space, where managers toiled away in their cubicles while every other tester and coder lay sprawled on couches and bean bag chairs. In the background, someone was cursing under their breath against the synth-pop sounds of a retro Eighties arcade game:  _ Goddamn, just one more turn... I swear to Christ... I’m gonna... _

“Light stuff’s documentation, of course.” Hassan flashed another grin as he led Gabe up a short flight of stairs. Level Two of the building was another open office space, but less chaotic than below. The cubicles here formed a neat row of rectangles that bisected the floorspace. “But, hey, it’s taxing in its own way. We’re coming up on a big crunch, getting stuff ready for winter sales and the holiday blitz. Lots to remember, lots to double-check before we go live.”

“Right on,” said Gabe.

When he took a seat next to Hassan at a pair of desks, Gabe found his attention wavering on the dual widescreen monitors where he was ready to work. Sure, the code was new and the sims were faster than anything he’d seen online. Of course, he and Ivy couldn’t afford anything faster than a simple travel sim or a daily romcom feed.

But this code was  _ hot. _

As he began to type away, swiping between the code annotations and his new tracking file, Gabe was in heaven. He could handle this far better than the mountains of casework that his cousin Martin had at the old firm. He saw angular movement recognizers and save states that were ten times beyond the stuff he used to tinker with as a bored kid in school. Here, the next-gen data was crushing on performance, pushing code at lightspeed for a wave of users who were going to see themselves fly rings around Saturn.

Gabe smiled to himself when he snuck a look over at Hassan, who was going through his second round of quality tests already.

Maybe, if he created another horoscope, he’d find Saturn rising for him soon enough.

* * *

They stayed late that first night. Everyone else at Tonalli Tech had gone home by six-thirty, catching traffic and the rush of trains out from Union Station.

On the second floor office, Gabe could barely see straight. Every time he blinked, he couldn’t escape the ghostly impressions of hex color codes. Meanwhile, his lower back ached from the way he’d sat all day. Had to remember to bring a pillow or cushion. Ivy would’ve insisted that he never leave home without one.

Speaking of which, Gabe decided to check his wrist pad.

Three new messages from the girl back home.

> **_Ivy:_ ** _ gaaabe _
> 
> **_Ivy:_ ** _ chinese or korean bbq tonite? _
> 
> **_Ivy:_ ** _ let’s celebraaaaate! _

He responded with Korean barbecue. As if he’d ever pass up the chance for a good pork belly sandwich. Ivy was eager, but her tone changed when Gabe admitted that he’d be late considering the hour and how far he had to drive home.

_ Thank God for microwaves, _ Ivy had responded before leaving him a kiss and two heart emojis.

Gabe switched his wrist pad back to silent mode. He took one last lookover on his code chart before deciding he’d done enough for the day. Swipe down and press  SEND .

A slight noise from the refrigerator caught his attention. Gabe noticed Hassan’s silhouette bent over the open fridge, rummaging around what sounded like glass bottles and Tupperware-style boxes. He hummed a tune to himself, but the office space had such good acoustics that Gabe could hear it just fine from where he sat. He didn’t move a muscle, even as his back spasmed in protest. Hearing Hassan mumble notes to a song in a vaguely Arabic tone made Gabe homesick. Thinking about his late dad, and the way they used to drive around and listen to the Top 40 on the radio together, made his stomach clench.

When Hassan finally turned around, Gabe saw him hold up a pair of beer bottles.

“You drink?” he asked.

“Sometimes.” Gabe shrugged. “Among friends, anyway.”

“Well, if I see any, I’ll let you know!” Hassan laughed as he surgically popped the bottle caps off with a tool he’d gotten from his belt. Some Web engineer’s idea of a Swiss Army knife. He set the drinks on the desk, ignoring the condensation that soaked into the fiberboard. “So, are you liking what we’re about, then?”

Gabe nodded. “This place is great. Way better than any of my last jobs.”

“Office monkey, right? Like, law records and all that shit?”

“Yup.” Gabe paused, remembering the red face of his cousin as he announced that, in light of the Clarkson incident, he wouldn’t be fired, but he  _ would _ be asked to resign. Forcefully. He shivered and took a long sip of the beer. He recognized the flavor. A nice Japanese import. “Yeah, the work doesn’t crush your soul as much.”

“Pfft. Just wait until the crunch starts.” Hassan drank some beer, then wiped his lips. “Mm, yeah. Good, good trouble.”

“You enjoy all this, too?”

“Well, it’s getting paid to do what I love.”

“All of it?”

“Well...” Hassan, for the first time that day, didn’t come back with a casual grin. Instead, he ducked his head, eyes searching the carpet for something. “Well, look, you know how, like, there’s these sims that aren’t strictly kosher?”

“Sure. Black net stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t mean  _ that _ heavy, brother. I meant, like, coding for porn.” Hassan giggled. “Yeah, like mainstream sims, fetish sites, kink demos. All that stuff for lonely housewives.”

Gabe laughed, almost spilling his beer as he took another sip. “Hey, more power to you!”

“What, you don’t think I’m a pervert?”

“For doing some  _ ero _ stuff? Hardly.” When he’d drank about half his beer, Gabe set the bottle down. Leaning into his chair, he spun it a quarter around, bringing him face-to-face with his coworker. “I’m no saint either. Definitely downloaded a few racy sims off a shadow site back in college.”

“Huh.” A strange look crossed Hassan’s face. “I mean... well, thanks, Gabriel. I guess.”

“Call me Gabe, my man.” Lifting his beer in a toast, Gabe chuckled. “Here’s to simming sex with all the cute 3D boys and girls out there.”

“Amen,” said Hassan, still a little distant in his gaze. He clinked his bottle against Gabe’s, but he didn’t take his eyes off Gabe as he drank.

A long moment passed. It was a comfortable silence. One that Gabe didn’t realize he’d missed until he saw Hassan reach up and unbutton the top of his flannel shirt. That sudden flicker of his tongue across smooth brown lips. That undisguised need burning in his dark eyes, making Gabe forget all about dinner with Ivy.

They started slow. A hand on someone’s thigh. Fingers creeping up to the waist, pulling each other closer across the chairs. Hassan took the initiative and nuzzled Gabe’s neck. He reeked of Japanese beer, but Gabe didn’t mind. He pulled his tie loose, letting the other man’s hands tug open his buttoned shirt.  _ Pop, pop, pop _ went his shirt, revealing a white tee and a thin layer of chest hair beyond that. Smooth brown fingers caressed his chest, and Gabe fought back a moan.

He didn’t remember who started the migration. Suddenly, they were on their feet, swaying into each other as they tumbled over to the empty couch in the corner. Hassan twisted Gabe around, putting him on his back. Greedy hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it in a frantic rush. Their breathing got louder as they yanked off shirts and dropped pants. Gabe teased him with a kiss on the cheek, and Hassan stared at him in stunned silence.

When their lips met, they threw caution to the wind.

* * *

Reeking of beer, sweat, and sex, Hassan was a perfect gentleman. Not a model manager after what had happened, but Gabe couldn’t care less. He watched as Hassan fetched their clothes, smoothing out each wrinkle from where they’d landed on the floor. In the gloom of the office space, the two men got dressed in a hurry, but nothing prepared Gabe for the way Hassan reached up. He smiled as he helped straighten Gabe’s tie back into place.

“Thanks for this,” said Hassan, his voice going softer. “Really, you’ve no idea how long it’s been.”

Gabe smiled back. “I can guess.”

“But, look, if you don’t want to continue...” Swallowing, Hassan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He found the carpet far more interesting to watch than anywhere else. “I mean, I get it. No one wants to hear you’ve been screwing the boss.”

“Hassan—”

“I mean, it’s all mayhem, right? Total catastrophe for HR and Legal.”

“Hey, c’mon—”

“Look, what if I got you another job? I mean, a recommendation to someplace like—”

“Hey.” Gabe stopped him with a finger to his lips. When Hassan fell silent, he leaned in and kissed those lips. Their eyes drifted shut for what felt like an eternity.

Pulling away, Gabe sighed. He let Hassan sink into him, feeling every bit as shaken up as Taurus in his horoscope. Their arms wrapped around each other, and their bodies melded together, still reeking of sweat and sex.

“That’s tomorrow’s worry, okay?” Gabe couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. But between celestial motions and his dad’s passing, everything was in freefall. What could it hurt. “So, you know, my girlfriend’s ordering dinner right now. If you’re not busy, we’d love to have you over. Get to know you better, if that sounds good.”

Hassan’s lower lip trembled through his beard. He looked away.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Ah, Jesus. What have I gotten myself into?”

“Dinner with two lovely people?” Gabe chuckled. He couldn’t believe the bravado in his voice. It must’ve been the afterglow talking. “Come on, Ivy’s super chill.”

“Even about this?” Hassan locked eyes with Gabe. “About what we did?”

Gabe nodded. “We’re open. In all the right ways.”

He saw a scene play out in his head, rewound from twelve weeks earlier. Not long after the whole emotional roller-coaster of Dad’s funeral, he’d retreated into his grief, sleeping on the couch. Ivy respected his self-imposed exile. She’d also gone out for drinks with her friend Sandra, and they’d come home drunk and bubbly in each other’s arms. Gabe had shared a knowing smile with Ivy as she made a dash with Sandra for the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

Hearing the mattress creak, Gabe had thanked God his girlfriend was having fun after a long mourning stint. He’d loaded up a Samantha Cloud sim on his headset and fallen asleep to her latest Twitch run in  _ Vault: Level Zero. _

Back in the present, Hassan leaned into Gabe’s shoulder. He fiddled with a button on his flannel shirt.

“You know,” he said quietly, “the workplace rules on relationships aren’t all that strict.”

“That right?”

“Mm-hmm. Tim, our CEO, hooked up with our lead designer last Thanksgiving. I mean, as long as no one’s doing it during work hours or killing projects, like... it’s all good.”

The hesitation in Hassan’s voice made Gabe pull him close.

“That’s all very interesting,” he said. “Maybe we could discuss it more over dinner?”

Hassan nodded, and Gabe felt something unlock in his chest. He couldn’t stop his fingers from tracing patterns across his manager’s shirt. It was hard, too, not to bounce from foot to foot, giddy with excitement as the guys made their way downstairs. With traffic at a lull outside, it’d be a clear shot back to the apartment that he and Ivy shared. There’d be reheated food waiting for them, and Ivy would look over at Gabe’s new work buddy with a teasing smirk. They’d hold hands across the table, and Gabe would walk into the future for whatever lay in store.


End file.
